


a lesson in misunderstandings and warmth

by imadetheline



Series: learning, little by little [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, author should check herself before she wrecks herself, author write something that's been written a 100 times before, slight allusions to skysolo if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Luke runs his hand through his hair again, this time uncaring of the oil on his hands, and tugs on the blond strands. He hasn’t worked up the courage, nor had the opportunity, to ask Vader why he hadn’t looked for Luke, hadn’t come for his son, years ago, why he hadn’t found him on Tatooine if he’d truly wanted him. Luke’s not sure he wants to know the answer. Whispers haunt his mind anyway: He only wants you for your power. He waited until he knew you had the Force to hunt you down.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: learning, little by little [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100993
Comments: 28
Kudos: 219
Collections: Luke and Vader Bonding





	a lesson in misunderstandings and warmth

**Author's Note:**

> i sat down to work on a request and then this happened. so I'm sorry and i am trying to get around to them but school is starting back up soon so it may take longer than normal. for now please enjoy whatever this is

It’s been a long two weeks on board the Executor. He knows his father is busy running the whole military, plus keeping Luke’s presence a secret from the emperor. And whenever they do talk, someone inevitably ends up stalking off upset. But it’s not like he can talk to anyone else; the fact that he’s onboard is known only by a few, so he can’t go wandering around the ship. And even the ship parts his father had given him to work on are getting monotonous. 

Luke just misses his friends; Leia, Wedge, Wes, the rest of Rogue Squadron, and Han. He sighs--falling back onto his bed--especially Han. He hasn’t given up on rescuing him. He’s going to find a way to, with his father’s permission or not. But preferably with.

He stares up at the unchanging black ceiling. Almost everything is black here: sleek and uniform… and boring. He runs a hand through his hair before he remembers his fingers are stained with oil from the repairs on a shuttle engine he’d been in the middle of. Oh well, he already needs to shower.

He reaches experimentally for his father’s presence and doesn’t have to reach far. His father is large in the Force, eclipsing almost everything else in the vicinity. He hasn’t seen him in nearly three full rotations, hasn’t seen another person in double that. He even gets his meals from droids, and he’d certainly tried to hold a conversation with one, starved for human interaction, but needless to say, it hadn’t gone well. They were polite but nothing in the way of personality, not like Artoo. He hopes the little blue astromech is doing okay without him, hopes he’s watching out for Leia.

More and more, his rooms are starting to feel like a prison cell. A large prison cell, to be fair--his bedroom and two other attached rooms--but still a prison. Vader had trained with him for a few hours in one of the adjoining spaces last week, and it had been exhilarating: training with a lightsaber (even if it was a practice one) with  _ his father _ of all people. He’d never thought he’d get to experience it. But their deal: training--no dark side--and killing the emperor had finally allowed it. And much to his surprise, Vader wasn’t a bad teacher. Luke had the faintest suspicion he’d been a teacher before. He wonders who he taught.

But they haven’t trained since, and Vader’s check-ins have been quick and impersonal. It almost seems like his father’s avoiding him. Luke closes his eyes against the guilt that creeps up in his chest. He’s been trying to prevent that line of thought, working continuously on ships and droids, but the longer his father stays away, the harder it is to ignore. 

He sits up abruptly and pushes himself off the bed, shaking his head, but the thoughts come anyway.  _ Am I just not good enough? Has he already decided to get rid of me, to lock me up here until I die? Does he not want me?  _

It’s always been a possibility. Luke runs his hand through his hair again, this time uncaring of the oil on his hands, and tugs on the blond strands. He hasn’t worked up the courage, nor had the opportunity, to ask Vader why he hadn’t looked for Luke, hadn’t come for his son, years ago, why he hadn’t found him on Tatooine if he’d truly wanted him. Luke’s not sure he wants to know the answer. Whispers haunt his mind anyway:  _ He only wants you for your power. He waited until he knew you had the Force to hunt you down. _

He slaps his hand against the door controls, more harshly than warranted, and steps out of his room. Even though the regulated and filtered air is the same everywhere on board, his room feels suffocating. He tries to tell himself that Vader had saved him from an almost deadly crash when he’d found him, but his right hand twitches painfully, and he’s reminded of his father’s former disregard for his health. He could have only saved him because he wants to turn Luke, or his father could have done it because he cares.

Luke’s just not sure which one it is, doesn’t know where they stand. And Vader won’t talk to him long enough for him to figure it out. He groans, and it echoes loudly in the empty space, drawing Luke’s eyes up to the high ceilings around him. They’re exactly the same as his room. Stars, he misses the Millenium Falcon, with its personal touches and reminders of Han. Then his gaze wanders to the viewport to his left. It’s one of the only good things about the design of the rooms. They’re in hyperspace right now, and the blue of the stars flashing by is soothing, but it’s still not enough to push the thoughts of his father from his mind.

He shakes his head one more time and pulls his gaze away, turning to go back into his room and finally take a shower. But it’s then that he finally notices the swirling cold he’s come to recognize as his father hovering hesitantly around his own presence. It’s just a whisper, a tendril, as if Vader is distracted but still keeping tabs on Luke. And it’s wrapping tighter around him, growing closer. That’s the only reason he’d noticed.

The only emotion Luke can seem to drag up at this knowledge is frustration. Why has his father suddenly decided now he wants to see his son? He quickly checks his mental shields and curses sharply in Huttese when he realizes he’d let them slip slightly, not enough to be projecting fully formed thoughts, but Vader might have sensed feelings if he was paying attention. He does not want a lecture about the importance of shielding right now, doesn’t trust himself to be able to control his self-destructive tendencies, and not yell at a Sith lord that could kill him with a flick of his fingers. His prosthetic twitches again.

Luke clenches his hand tightly and slams his shields up. He has time to glance down at the imperial black of his outfit and adjust his sleeves before the door across the room is hissing open, and the cold is sweeping into the room in the form of a dark, towering menace, his respirator loud in the silence. Luke’s suddenly embarrassed about the oil staining his fingers and surely darkening a few strands of his otherwise blond hair, but he pushes the childish thought down. He won’t let his father intimidate him.

The man stops only a few feet into the room, mask tilted slightly. That doesn’t stop his presence from filling the space, suffocating in its scrutiny as he prods experimentally at Luke’s shielding. Luke mentally swats at the tendrils of cold flame, and they swiftly stop. He prepares himself for the lecture on shielding, pointedly staring right at Vader’s mask, trying as best he can to meet his father’s gaze.

But Vader doesn’t move. His prodding stops, but his presence still swirls around Luke. He shifts under the force of Vader’s full attention focused on him and flexes his fingers. Finally, his annoyance outweighs any sense of self-preservation--he barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes--and says, “What do you want,  _ Father _ ?” He makes sure to drag out the last syllable. Vader’s continued avoidance of him and then his audacity to come here just to examine Luke as if he’s a specimen in a laboratory is sparking his ire, rising with every moment they stand there, unspeaking and unmoving.

But then, “You are upset.” The words are monotone as ever, said in that deep baritone, and Vader’s shields are durasteel walls, no clue to how he feels about that fact. 

Luke doesn’t bother containing a scoff, abandoning all self-preservation attempts as his anger and despair bubble over. “What could possibly have given you that idea? It’s not as if you ever talk to me enough to know. If you’re going to lecture me about shielding, you don’t need to: I know. So you should just leave.” He’s flirting with death, and he knows it; the power swirling around him is too much to ignore. But all his childish fear and anger has finally found a crack in his armor and has seeped through it like blood from a mortal wound.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to tamp down on the tears he feels building. He hasn’t felt more like a child in years, scared and alone, and desperately longing for a father.  _ Leave. It’s what you’re best at, after all.  _ It rings through his head, and he doesn’t bother shielding it. Images of Tatooine and staring up stars, waiting for a father to return to whisk him away, are flashing in his mind’s eye. Luke’s hands are clenched so tightly he feels his fingernails digging into the skin on his flesh hand, the gears grinding in his prosthetic. He’s a fool. The darkness is whirling around him, and he feels the anger, the rage. 

And then it’s gone, pulled back behind shields, and he’s so tired he aches. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, though. Vader’s respirator is the only thing filling the silence. “Luke…” It’s so quiet Luke barely hears it. If Vader isn’t going to kill him today, he just wants to shower and then sleep. He doesn’t want to deal with his father’s disappointment.

There’s heavy footsteps, the whisper of a cape across metal floors, and the dark is wrapping around him in the Force. His chest aches. “Luke, I am-” There’s a pause, hesitation evident, “so sorry.” 

It echoes heavily in the Force around them, like something monumental, and Luke can’t help the sob that escapes him at the admission, his throat constricted. He opens his eyes and isn’t surprised to find Vader’s bulk an arm’s reach away from him, blocking his view of most of the room. The blinking chest plate is right in front of him, lights flashing. Finally, he finds words, “Why-” his voice breaks, and he swallows around the lump in his throat, “Why didn’t you come for me?” The mask tilts minutely, and Luke clarifies, “On Tatooine. Why did you never look for me?” He’s acutely aware of the tears making tracks down his cheeks, of how pathetic he looks.  _ Why did you leave me there? _

The Force is humming in the silence, and Vader’s shields are cracking under the weight of it. Luke senses whisps of guilt and anger and sorrow. Hysterical amusement bubbles up in his chest, and he almost laughs at how similar they are.

His gaze is drawn to his father’s hand, where it twitches at his side, reaching forward slightly before it falls back to his side. Luke doesn’t know why he feels a sudden sense of disappointment. But then Vader speaks, and his gaze is drawn back to the mask, “I thought you had perished, my son. Died before you were born… along with your mother.” There’s the briefest of pauses, and bone-deep grief radiates from the words, but then Vader is pressing on, “As soon as I learned you lived--after you destroyed the Death Star--I searched for you, desperately.” His hand once again makes an aborted movement forward. “I wanted nothing more than to find you, my son.”

The truth in the words is ringing in the Force, and it only makes Luke want to cry more. “So,” he sucks in a breath, trying to fill his lungs, “So you wanted me? As a son, nothing more?”

This time his father can’t seem to restrain himself, and the hand reaches out again, finally landing gently on his shoulder, a steadying weight. A sob catches in Luke’s throat. “More than anything, Luke.”

The Force is whispering something, snatches of a conversation.  _ Ani… I’m pregnant.  _ Images of a beautiful woman, overjoyed and nervous.  _ That’s… That’s wonderful.  _ A man this time. And there is joy, and there is love, and Luke is leaning into his father’s touch, eyes shut, trying to understand. “Why have you been avoiding me?” Because it’s true, Vader has.

There is guilt, and there is fear, and hatred then, but it’s directed inward. Luke’s eyes flicker open at that, searching for his father’s gaze, but the mask is now looking towards the spiraling blue of hyperspace outside the viewport. “I was busy.” Luke’s eyes narrow, the tears now drying on his cheeks, and he pulls back minutely, foot shifting backward. Vader feels it, and his mask swings around, hand tightening on Luke’s shoulder before it drops completely. “And… I did not wish to burden you with my presence.”

The self-hatred in the words is clear even without the Force’s confirmation. Luke blinks, emotions warring in his chest. But then there’s a nudge at his back, and it feels familiar and comforting and sad, but he listens. He listens, and he lunges forward, throwing his arms around his father’s waist.

The towering figure freezes, stiff and unmoving. Luke doesn’t release him, just rests his cheek against his father’s chest, feeling the heat of the suit radiate against his skin, the vibrations of the respirator oddly soothing. “You’re my father,” he whispers against the black of the armor. He knows Vader can hear him. “I just want to know you.” The cold flares, tinged with warmth, and wraps around him tighter. And then Vader’s arms join the darkness, one hand coming to rest on the back of Luke’s head, heavy and grounding and  _ safe _ . 

Luke doesn’t know how long they stand there, his father’s hand carding gently through his hair, safety, and protective warmth wrapped around him. When his father’s hands finally drift down to his shoulders and gently push him back, Luke is yawning. He feels exhausted, emotionally drained, but less anxious than he’s felt in weeks. His father wants him, has always wanted him, had only avoided him out of some misguided attempt to do what he thought Luke wished.

Vader’s voice once again breaks the silence, “I am sorry, Luke. I do not always know…” He trails off, the respirator cycling a few times before he continues, “Would you like to train together tomorrow morning?”

Luke smiles and reaches up to his father’s hand on his shoulder, grasping his wrist, and nods, too tired to do much else. A sudden shiver racks his frame, the chill of space for this long still unusual to him. He doesn’t even have time to register the cape being unclasped from his father’s shoulders and draped around his own, but he grabs for it, wrapping it around himself. It’s already warm from the heat of the machinery in Vader’s suit.

Apparently, his outburst and dealing with his father's emotions in the Force had drained him more than he’d thought because he barely remembers being pushed gently towards the refresher for a much-needed shower. But he does remember stumbling into his empty room, out of the ‘fresher, in clean sleep clothes and spotting a dark piece of fabric on his bed. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be his father’s cape, and he pulls it around himself before he topples into bed, tired but warm.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


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